


One Week

by Madam_Fandom



Series: Naivety [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Attempted Seduction, Biting, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Embarrassed Sherlock, Embarrassment, Emotional Sherlock, First Kiss, First Time, Johnlock - Freeform, Kissing, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Neck Kissing, Scared Sherlock, Top John, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 12:27:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9385022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madam_Fandom/pseuds/Madam_Fandom
Summary: A short story based on a prompt. Sherlock has his eyes set on John Watson.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KittieHill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittieHill/gifts).



Sherlock had made up his mind, he wanted John Watson. He'd told his brother once that sex didn’t alarm him, and it didn’t. But the thought of sex with John Watson did. But Sherlock had already made up his mind, he’d already set his plan in motion.

He made sure to touch John more, innocent touches of course. And he'd foregone the scarf altogether, leaving his neck exposed because he had also started unbuttoning his shirt lower than normal. Annd, if he had resorted to wearing shirts too small and a bit tight, that wasn’t purely by coincidence. He was trying to seduce his flatmate. The only problem was if he succeeded, then what? How would that work? What would it be like?

Sherlock felt himself harden at the thought of the possibilities of how _it_ could work. It was because of his body’s unwarranted reactions that Sherlock  had decided to even try to seduce John. He had known for quite some time that he loved the other man. But when his body betrayed him by hardening at the worst possible times he figured he should do something about it. He had tried masturbating that first night, but he only succeeded in frustrating himself further. It was a lot harder than it looked, no pun intended. The next day he was so wound up he’d snapped at John and Mrs. Hudson, the latter storming out of the flat in a huff and the former taking it in good stride. Still, he had felt bad about the outburst later.

Sherlock knew he very well couldn’t ask anyone to show him how to masturbate properly. He felt his face brighten with embarrassment at the thought of John showing him, eww or worse, his brother. Sherlock physically shook himself to get rid of that last thought.

 

Sherlock was washing some beakers, petri dishes and other such lab equipment, he was completely lost in his thoughts and was startled when he felt hands slide around his waist coupled with the soft subtle breathing against the side of his neck. He could smell John’s unique smell. He always smelled like pure clean soap, with a hint of leather and musk. _This was John._ Or, he had a rather active imagination that took great joy in torturing him.

 

“One week.”

Sherlock's breath stuttered, he didn’t understand what John meant by that. He couldn’t think clearly with _this_ man standing so closely.

“One week was all it took Sherlock.”

Sherlock felt John press more firmly against his back, he could feel the other man’s arousal.

“One week of you prancing around here, touching me, paying attention to me, giving me unobstructed views of your fantastic neck.”

A kiss was placed on the back of said neck with just a hint of teeth. Sherlock gasped loudly, mouth falling open.

“One week was all it bloody took to reduce me to a boy with a constant ragging hard on.”

John pressed himself harder against Sherlock pressing him into the sink ledge. Sherlock's breath caught, his hands gripped the beaker he was holding so tightly he was sure it would shatter.

“I thought I was imagining it at first, that it was just my sex deprived mind making a big deal out of nothing.”

Sherlock let out a loud moan when John stopped talking to place a gentle kiss and then a not so gentle nip at his the frantic pulse in his neck. His eyes closed and his head fell back on its own accord, resting on John’s shoulder. Sherlock shivered as John’s hands moved from his waist to his shoulders, sliding down his arms, down further to his hands, weaving their fingers together.

“The past two nights I’d gone to bed feeling like a cock for going to bed thinking about you, for touching myself as I did.” 

The thought of John touching himself as he thought of him made his heart beat faster and all the blood pump to the already engorged organ between his legs.

John paused in his story to nip Sherlock on the shoulder right through his dark purple dress shirt. Sherlock couldn’t stop himself from moaning again, “Jooohn.” John’s name was barely a whisper, he was irrationally afraid that by saying John's name, it would shatter the illusion and Sherlock would find himself alone in the kitchen.

Sherlock’s breathing turned ragged as John kissed and bit his way up the slope of Sherlock’s shoulders to that sensitive little spot below his ear. Sherlock’s body betrayed him, jerking at the sensation. This was better than he could have ever imagined. John was squeezing his hands as he rubbed his erection slowly against Sherlock’s arse.

 

This was all embarassingly new to Sherlock. He wasn’t sure how to process all the emotions and physical feelings that John was eliciting in and from him. He had no time to process one feeling before another one snuck up and replaced it. It scared him a little. He gripped John’s hand and called out his name, hating that he could hear the quiver in his voice, but glad he couldn’t tell if it was from pleasure or fear.

Sherlock heard the strain in John’s voice as he continued his story, “It wasn’t until this morning that I finally knew.” John ran his tongue along the shell of Sherlock’s ear, nipping it lightly before blowing on the spot. Sherlock’s nipples harden beneath his shirt, they ached so much, he had a sudden urge to touch them, rub them, to soothe them.

“This morning,” John let out a ragged breath, pulling one of his wet hands out of the soapy water sliding it over Sherlock chest, wetting the shirt as he went, stroking one nipple throught the material. He rested his thick fingers on the side of Sherlock’s neck, “this morning I saw you, you looked at me like you wanted me right here on the kitchen floor. I wanted to shower and leave before you came out I was feeling guilty about my thoughts about you. I hadn't known you were up...you stared at me in my towel...and I just knew, _you_ had been trying to seduce me, you cock.”

 

Sherlock tried to nod his head but he couldn’t seem to make anything work. John had somehow worked his shirt open and was rolling a nipple between his finger and thumb as he now sucked at the pulse in his neck. “John!” Sherlock moaned loudly. John was taking no mercy on him. He rubbed himself against Sherlock’s back growling low in his throat as he sucked, nibbled and kissed all over Sherlock’s shoulders and neck. He writhed against John as he cried out repeatedly. He was still holding on to John’s other hand, squeezing, needing the reassurance that he wasn’t alone in the moment.

“Mmm, Sherlock, you sound- you look- beautiful.”

 

Sherlock allowed John to turn him around so they faced one another. He struggled to open his eyes. John made him feel like he had just taken the world’s best drug and he never wanted to come down. “Look at you, with your flushed skin, lips parted like you want me to kiss you.” John paused staring at Sherlock’s lips, “Do you want me to kiss you?”

Sherlock barely nodded his head before John had a hand gripped in his hair, dragging him down so their lips could meet. Sherlock grasped John’s shirt in his hands as if it a life raft on the angry sea. He was so aroused, so painfully turned on, everything John did put him that much closer to the edge.

Their tongues did battle as Sherlock tried to push himself into John, he needed, he wanted- he wasn’t sure but he knew only John could give it to him. Sherlock whimpered as John broke the kiss, dipping his head he took a nipple into his mouth, twirling his tongue around and over the highly sensitive nub. Sherlock held on to John for all he was worth, he realized he was moaning and crying out loudly. He apologized.

“For what?”

“Being loud.”

John kissed him hard, “Don’t apologize, I love the way you sound; in fact, I want to _make_ you scream my name.”

Sherlock felt his knees threatened to buckle at John’s words, the unspoken promise of pleasure. John pressed him back into the sink, kissing him urgently as his thumbs rubbed circles over and around Sherlock’s aching nipples. “John, please…” Sherlock wasn’t sure what he was asking for but John seemed to know as he answered, “Yes,” his voice was rough and shaky. He returned to Sherlock’s neck as he ground his hips into Sherlock, sending little ripples of electricity up Sherlock’s body.

 

Sherlock felt a strange pressure building behind his eyes, and belatedly he wondered if it was too much for him and he was going to be sick. He gripped John tighter, unable to stop moaning for even a second, it was as crucial to him in this moment as breathing. His hearing was drowned out by a ringing in his ears, and suddenly his body felt like it tightened and the released, shattering apart, spreading him across the universe. He cried out John’s name as he came.

“Christ Sherlock, say my name again.”

Sherlock’s body shook as he came. He realized now what the pressure and the ringing of his ears meant. He felt drained and could barely whisper John’s name, let alone shout it again.

John kissed him, slowly, and Sherlock was surprised to hear himself moaning softly into the kiss. John pulled away and chuckled. His voice sounded husky, “You all right?”

Sherlock still gripped John’s shoulders, afraid his legs wouldn’t support him. He nodded his head, he didn’t trust his voice yet.

 

John was scarily astute when it came to others and their emotions at times, this was one of those times.

Sherlock felt embarrassed, not only because he knew he had made a mess of himself, but he was unsure if his reactions were typical or not. And he hated not knowing. He ducked his head, trying to hide from John.

John cupped his face, “Hey,” he said gently, “You know everything is fine. _This_ is fine. You were fantastic and I could hear you say my name like that all day.”

Sherlock opened his eyes and looked up at John, and to his abject horror, a tear streaked down his face when he did. He tried to move past John, to head into his room, but John held him trapped between the sink and himself.

John cupped his face with both hands now, “Sherlock, I mean it. I am more than okay with this. _It’s all good._ ” He pulled Sherlock into a tight embrace.

Sherlock hoped John didn’t realize that that had been his first orgasm. No suck luck.

As John held him lovingly in his arms he told Sherlock, “I’m glad I was the person to give you your first orgasm.”

Sherlock knew if John looked at him, his face would be bright red.

“That is nothing to be ashamed about, that is the highest honor you could give me, aside from your love. Besides, I look forward to being able to finally teach _you_ , Sherlock Holmes, a thing or two.

Sherlock laughed through his tears, pulling back to look down at John. “You know I love you, you idiot.”

John whipped away Sherlock's tears, “Good, cause I love you too.”


End file.
